


Travelin' Man

by BeanieBaby



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Awkward Tension, Din doesn't know how to do feelings, Emotional Constipation, Fluff and Humor, Leaving a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes, M/M, Mutual Pining, Welcome to the Tired Dads Club, season two spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27321295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeanieBaby/pseuds/BeanieBaby
Summary: “I need a babysitter.”“Shouldn’t you find a woman for that kind of work?” Vanth asked after a jaw-cracking yawn. “I mean I can’t exactly breastfeed this thing.”“Neither can I,” Mando pointed out, tossing the satchel at Vanth’s feet. He swung a long leg over the speeder and said, “I’ll be back by sundown. If not, he’s yours to keep.”“Wait, what?”
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 50
Kudos: 531





	1. Vanth

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ricky Nelson's song with the same name. Lol, I feel like it strangely fits him. I've been waiting for a hot man to sweep Mando off his feet, and Timothy Olyphant came sauntering in in all his silver fox glory.

Vanth woke to a wet forehead.

The little green baby that had been drooling in his face giggled in delight as he yelped and rolled gracelessly out of bed onto the cold hard floor. Nights on Tatooine tended to be on the cold side, but Mos Pelgo was a mining settlement, and while the underground forges were long dormant, their town still ran hot…which was a long-winded way of explaining that Vanth liked to sleep in the nude.

“How have you managed to survive this long?”

He tightened the fist over the sheets bunched around his waist and turned to find the Mando standing in the doorway, practically radiating distain at the lack of security measures in his tiny home. Vanth ran a tired hand over his week-old stubble and sighed.

“Good morning to you, too, asshole.”

“Put some clothes on and meet me outside,” The man ordered before thumping his way out of the small abode.

“Turn around,” He told the baby. It cooed but kept staring at him with those huge, judgmental eyes. Cursing under his breath at the unfortunate turn of events, Vanth tossed the sheets over the child and grabbed his pants.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you again, Mando, but what are you doing back?” He called after the Mandalorian, fingers flying over the ties in his boots. The strange green infant had waddled up to his side and latched onto Vanth’s trouser leg, so he scooped it up into his arms and raced after its guardian.

“I need a babysitter.”

His back was to Vanth as he fiddled with something in the pack sat atop that familiar rusty old speeder bike. Vanth frowned.

“Shouldn’t you find a woman for that kind of work?” He asked after a jaw-cracking yawn. “I mean I can’t exactly breastfeed this thing.”

Come to think of it, he hadn’t even seen the little guy eat anything during the entirety of their last encounter.

“Neither can I,” Mando pointed out, tossing the satchel at Vanth’s feet. He swung a long leg over the speeder and said, “I’ll be back by sundown. If not, he’s yours to keep.”

“Wait, what?”

He pushed the throttle to full, and Vanth had to quickly twist to shield the child from the fountain of dust the speeder kicked up. By the time they both stopped coughing their lungs out, Mando has disappeared over the dunes.

“I’mma burn that bike of his,” He vowed darkly, brushing sand off of the child’s wrinkly green forehead with his shirt sleeve, “your dad’s a fucking menace.”

* * *

Vanth ran the day’s errands with the infant slung over his hip in Mando’s satchel. It was slow-going. Everyone he came across either wanted to hold it or pet it, even the Sand People he was meeting with that afternoon. He still didn’t understand about ninety percent of what they screeched at him, but Vanth took it as a sign that the Tuskens recognized the wrinkly green baby from way back when because they allowed it to roll around in the dirt with those weird lizard dogs they kept as guard beasts.

It was near sunset when he and the baby headed back to town with two infant Banthas in tow. Vanth had learned in the days that Mando had been away that the Sand People treasured and respected these mammals in their culture, but they were willing to trade them for a steady supply of fresh water after Vanth had promised no harm would come to the animals under the villagers’ care.

The Mandalorian was not back by the time stars overtook the night sky. He cooked a simple meat porridge for the child and himself, remembering to set aside a portion for its tardy guardian. It had been an exhausting day, and Vanth soon found himself nodding off. The sleepy baby nestled at his side muffled a tiny yawn in Vanth’s shirt. He stroked a finger over its green head and let it crawl over his hip and into his lap.

In all his time as a slave, Vanth had never thought about having a family. Survival had been at the top of his limited list of priorities, not procreation. But in these fleeting moments, he wondered. What would it feel to be a father, to focus all of his love and devotion into a singular being — small and vulnerable, yet in dark times, such a strong symbol of life and hope?

Perhaps he’d be less lonely.

The child laid its cheek against Vanth’s chest and closed its eyes. He ran a soothing hand down its back and settled down to await Mando’s return. 

He didn’t know when he fell asleep, but when Vanth woke, the Mandalorian and his child were long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I should do more. Literally typed this up in an hour after watching S2E01. 
> 
> If I do more, it'll probably be along the veins of two emotionally-stunted men awkwardly navigating sporadic joint custody of Tiny Gremlin Child, while trying to out-macho each other through various stupid dick-measuring contests instead of talking about their feelings like they should.


	2. Din

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to get out of this new pit I've dug myself into. I honestly don't need more WIPs, but here we are I guess...

“How long are you going to sulk about this?”

The baby, seated in its carrier, ignored his question, and while maintaining full eye contact, deliberately sealed the top half shut again. Din flicked it back open with his thumb. The child bared its tiny teeth at him in defiance and burrowed further into the Marshal’s bandana that it had refused to leave Mos Pelgo without. Din wasn’t sure where this recent rebellious streak came from, but he had to admit, the kid had balls trying to put up a fight without the capacity to string two syllables together.

“We’re not going back there, I need to return you to your kind,” He told the child, “the sooner you accept this, the better.”

He’d been telling himself the same thing for the past two days. The Tatooine lead hadn’t exactly panned out the way Din had expected. Sure he was glad to recover the set of faded beskar armor, but they were nowhere near close to tracking down another of his kind. And yet, further investigation of other alleged rumors all pointed back to Tatooine. So after designating the bewildered marshal his child’s temporary sitter, he’d spent a day out in the desert attempting to track down the Jawas that had sold Vanth the Mandalorian gear. The reality was, Din had gotten slight distracted and wasted a better part of his afternoon tailing Vanth and the kid while they did errands together.

“Lunch’s ready,” Peli’s voice floated in from the doorway of the bunker, breaking Din’s depressing train of thought. She lifted an eyebrow at them and added, “still trying to teach the little one it’s not ok to steal? I’m sure that marshal of yours won’t mind losing a scrap of cloth.”

“It is ok to steal” He corrected, frowning down at the child in question, _“it’s not ok to steal useless junk.”_

It retaliated by sealing the carriage pod again, this time managing to snag Din’s gloved fingertips before he yanked his hand free.

“Well, as much as I love watching you fail to discipline your child, don’t you think its time to move on?” She prompted him, scratching her chin as they headed to the small kitchen for food, “my droids have cleaned out every inch of the Razer Crest top to bottom, and no offense, but you’re starting to scare away my usual customers.”

“I need a bit more time to ask around,” Din admitted. “The marshal said he bought the beskar off of Jawas, but they’re proving hard to find.”

At the mention of its new favorite person, the infant carrier slid open once more. Din rolled his eyes behind his helmet as the baby held up Vanth’s crimson bandana for their viewing pleasure and cooed pointedly.

“Someone likes their new bib,” Peli remarked, smiling at the cuteness overload as she reached over and adjusted the loose knot around the baby's neck.

“He cooked us _one_ dinner, kid. Have some higher standards,” Din scolded.

“I don’t know about that, Mando. Handsome man that can cook? Sign me up,” Peli tossed a bowl of blackish vegetable cubes and shredded meat his way. Din grimaced in the privacy of his helmet. It didn’t smell all that great.

“Nobody said anything about handsome.”

She spooned a huge lump of the concoction into her mouth and garbled, “I’m operating under the assumption he’s probably pretty easy on the eyes. Man of few words such as yourself, hasn't shut up about him since you got back.” Peli swallowed with some difficulty and pointed her spoon at the infant, “See? Even the cutie pie agrees with me.”

Din reached over and tugged the end of the scarf out of the child’s mouth and passed over his bowl. The baby nibbled tentatively at a piece of food and gagged. Din had seen it swallow a whole live frog without so much as batting an eye.

“Guess we’ll head out for one last try tomorrow,” He said, yanking the bowl back and wiping the child’s chin clean with his palm. Peli didn’t notice their quick exchange.

“You’re a stubborn one, Mando,” She grinned at him, “I’ll have the speeder ready for ya tomorrow morning.”

* * *

His entire body was on fire.

Din peeled his eyes open to an unfamiliar ceiling. Faintly in the distance, he heard footsteps approaching. Blind panic overtook him for a split second, his hands flying to his face where—

“Hey, easy tiger! You’re going to rip those wounds wide open again.”

Not two seconds after that statement, Din felt the familiar spread of warm blood over his shoulder. By some small miracle, his helmet was still on. Someone smacked the back of Din's head, the sound muffled by beskar and shoved him back down onto the modest cot. Cobb Vanth’s scowling face entered his line of vision.

“I ain’t watching your kid if you die, Mando,” He warned, peeling back the bacta-soaked bandage on Din’s shoulder and peering at the oozing blood.

He cleared his throat with some difficulty and asked, “What happened?”

“You tell me,” Vanth took a seat on the edge of the bed, “them Tuskens found your shiny metal ass sticking out of a pile of sand and called me.”

“The Child, is he—”

“Not a single hair harmed on his tiny green head,” the marshal said as he lifted something small from the ground and set it down on Din’s lap.

“Sorry he took your scarf.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Vanth dismissed, “kid wears it better than me anyway.”

They both glanced at said kid. The infant had Vanth’s stolen bandana wrapped around its head like an old village woman.

“I mean, I can never pull off that look,” the marshal mused, shaking his head as he got up to pour Din some water.

Something suddenly crossed his mind.

“Did you take off my helmet?”

Vanth paused to glance at him, “am I not supposed to?”

Heart racing, Din slid his blaster out of its side holster and growled, “answer the question.”

“Really? You’re gonna shoot me after I dragged your half-dead ass all the way back to town and used my entire year’s worth of bacta to stop the bleeding?”

“Did you or did you not?” He hated the way his voice shook with panic. Something changed in Vanth’s face, his expression softening as he set the water down on the table.

“No, Mando. I didn’t.”

Silence stretched between them, taunt with tension.

“You can ask demon spawn over there,” Vanth said, jerking his chin at the child curled in Din’s lap, “took a chunk outta my hand when I tried to remove your metal bucket.”

The marshal lifted his right hand where someone had tied a crude bandage around his palm. He met the kid’s wide-eyed gaze and sighed, “Don’t blame me if your daddy dies from his concussion.”

“I’m sorry,” Din reluctantly stowed the weapon away, “It’s part of my culture. I’ve never removed my helmet in front of another person.”

“How do you keep it on all the time? Mine was constantly falling off,” the man murmured, leaning in for closer scrutiny and rapping his knuckles on top of Din’s helmet-covered forehead, “You must have a giant head. Or is it glued to your face? Either way, very impressive.”

He expertly dodged Din’s swipe. The child in Din’s lap shrieked with laughter, opening its small hands to the marshal in the universal language of infants demanding to be picked up and held. Vanth obeyed and scooped the baby up into his arms.

 _They looked good together,_ Din thought, a strange warm tightness forming in his gut at the sight of them.

“If your old man’s feeling well enough to try and punch me, I’m sure he’s going to make a full recovery,” Vanth told the baby, and after a contemplative pause, pulled the scarf down and adjusted it so that it sat properly around the child’s neck, “much better. Now we match.”

“Thank you,” Din said, lacing up his loose vambrace and wincing as the beskar pinched some of the tender skin underneath.

“Don’t go snooping around the hermit’s cave again,” Vanth advised, resting his hip against the edge of the table as he watched Din dress, “I don’t want to be straining pieces of you out of the sand next time.”

Din paused at the words, “What hermit?”

“The quiet, bald one with all the scars. He doesn’t have a name either.”

“I do have a name.”

“That you’ve never bothered to share with the rest of the class.”

“It’s Din.”

“What kind of name is that?”

“The same kind as ‘Cobb.’”

Vanth rubbed his nose. “Touché.”

“Your hermit did this to me?”

“Not mine,” The marshal corrected, “I don't know him very well, but I do know he doesn’t like to be bothered by strangers. Lives alone, as far as I can tell. Comes into town a handful of times a year for water and alcohol. He’s friends with the Sand People.”

“There’s no way some random hermit managed to rig those traps.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t even detect them until it was too late.”

“Is that a brag, Mando? Cause it sounds like a brag to me.”

“I need to talk to him. Tell him I mean no harm,” Din struggled to his feet, “can you relay that message?”

“Probably not, unless you want me to end up like you, bedridden and drinking my food out of a straw,” Vanth ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, “but it’s been a while since he last visited the town. Maybe if you stick around, he might come by.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boba’s the hermit they were talking about.
> 
> I'm kinda headcanoning him as the retired, recluse that wants nothing to do with the rest of the world, and only talks to the Tuskens. And just wants the bickering gays to leave him alone.
> 
> The show will probably prove me wrong on many things, but we'll see if I get anywhere with this fic. I have too many WIPs...and I tend to add too much plot in my stories...
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think! :)


	3. Vanth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really going to stick to drabbly stuff with this one (I swear to God, I will jump into a literal swamp if I add plot to another of my WIP fics...ugh. They keep getting out of hand.) 
> 
> No idea where I'm going with this, but I do really appreciate all the feedback! They honestly do motivate me to write more for this tiny ship lol

_News spread fast of the dragon slayer’s return,_ Vanth thought sullenly as he watched from a safe distance. Townsfolk, mostly women, were gathered at his doorstep holding various gifts and food for the Mandalorian currently holed up in Vanth’s tiny, cramped quarters. No matter how hard they tried to make it work, his apartment just could not physically accommodate a baby and two grown men, one of which steadfastly refused to remove his metal helmet and declared Vanth’s bed his exclusive territory.

Wincing, Vanth flipped the icepack onto its cooler side and pressed it back against the swollen bump on the left side of his jaw — the most recent result of Din literally head-butting him in the mouth earlier that morning getting out of the fresher.

“Looks like you’re in for a new step mom, kid,” He murmured down at the baby nestled in his arms. The tiny green child cooed in reply, reached up a clawed hand, and patted Vanth sympathetically on the cheek.

“I see your man’s back in town,” An amused voice said from behind. Jo propped her elbows on the window sill and cocked her head to the side.

Vanth adjusted his grip on the wrinkly baby steadily clawing its way over his left shoulder and asked drily, “How can you tell?”

“Hello again, you,” She tickled it under the chin in greeting. The baby giggled and made grabby hands at the young woman. He passed the child over and flipped the ice pack onto its other side again.

“You’d think they’ve never seen a man before,” Vanth muttered darkly.

“Oh come on, you got the same treatment when you first arrived,” Jo pointed out with a smirk, “How is he, by the way?”

“A handful.”

“The kid or the dad?”

“Both,” He rubbed at his jaw and heaved a deep sigh, “Can’t wait until they’re out of my hair.”

She studied his side profile and asked, “Is that so?”

Vanth frowned at the young woman. “Of course.”

“Have you ever thought about what’s out there?” Jo prompted instead, “beyond Tatooine, I mean.”

“Yeah, back when I was a kid,” He let out a short laugh and shook his head, “I wanted what Mando has. Freedom, a ship to call my own, cool armor and a buttload of guns.” Vanth met Jo’s curious gaze and chuckled, “ironic, isn’t it?”

“You don’t want that anymore?”

“I guess somewhere along the way, I grew too old for those silly childhood dreams,” He shrugged before frowning suspiciously at her, “you tryin’ to get rid of me, girl?”

“Of course not,” Jo rolled her eyes at him, “it’s just, when we were taking down the krayt dragon, you had such a brightness in your eyes, sheriff.”

Mando had fought his way out of the avalanche of female admirers and horny widows. Vanth and Jo watched the man limp up to them in silence.

“Take me to the hermit, Vanth,” Din seized the front of his shirt with a massive fist, still breath like a winded Bantha, “I can’t stay another night here.”

“What hermit?” Jo asked, peering between them as Vanth jerked his rumpled tunic out of Mando’s grip.

“The one that blew him sky-high,” He explained lazily, crossing his arms over his chest and refusing to be the first one to move. They were standing too close, but Vanth was tired of giving in to Mando’s endless demands.

“Wait, you stumbled into Boba’s traps?”

They both turned to the young woman and asked at the same time, “who’s Boba?”

“The hermit,” Jo said, staring back, “you’re talking about the one that lives in the sand dunes, correct?”

Vanth frowned. “You know him?”

“That’s Boba Fett. You guys should leave him alone. He’s not trying to hurt anyone anymore. He's done with the bounty hunter life.”

“How do you know all this stuff?” Vanth demanded.

“My father used to be bounty hunter,” Jo shrugged, “they did a job together once. Fett used to be pretty famous around these parts.”

Now that Vanth thought about it, that name did sound vaguely familiar.

“Does he know you?” Din turned his attention to her.

“I mean I think I met him once when I was about the size of this little guy here,” Jo lifted up the child, who was busy sucking on its left fist. Vanth pulled its arm out of its mouth and wiped the tiny wet hand clean with the scarf-turned-bib.

“Maybe he remembers you,” Mando said, “do you think you can get him to talk to me?”

“I guess I can try,” Jo said, brushing hair out of her face, “How are we going to get there?”

“On the marshal’s speeder,” Din decided without a pause. He took the baby from her and set it in Vanth’s arms before beckoning at Jo, “come on.”

“And what I am supposed to do, run after you two on foot?” Vanth asked sarcastically.

“Stay here with my kid,” Din ordered.

“I’m not your woman, Mando,” He huffed, gesturing to the onlookers, “there’re literally dozens of ‘em volunteering to take that spot.”

“I only trust you,” Came the muffled reply.

“That’s not fair,” Vanth yelled after them, “sweet talk ain’t gonna work on me, bucko.”

“I was stating a fact,” Din said flatly.

“How about we all go together,” Jo suggested brightly before the argument could escalate, “there’s enough room on the speeder engine for me, and,” she ran her gaze over Vanth’s body with a critical eyes, “with that figure, you could probably squeeze in Mando’s lap with the baby.”

“Not gonna happen,” He growled, jabbing an aggressive thumb into Din’s shiny chest plate, “If anyone’s riding in anybody’s lap, it’s him in mine.”

“Ok,” Mando shrugged.

Vanth felt like someone had sucker punched him in the solar plexus, “Wait, what?”

Din gave him a rough shove that nearly sent the stunned marshal sprawling face-first into the nearest dirt wall.

“Shut up and move.”

* * *

That suggestion, as it turned out, was a monumentally bad idea.

“What’s the plan?” Din asked.

He and Jo were crouched behind a rocky outcrop close enough to see the hermit’s cave, but not so close as to set off the booby traps again.

“Nngh…” Vanth groaned, still lying flat on his back a few feet away in the hot sand. The baby was sat next to him in the open satchel, sucking on its fist again. “You have obliterated my chances of ever fathering a child, Mando.”

“You were the one that insisted I ride in your lap,” Din replied without missing a beat.

Who knew beskar armor would be so hard. Oh, wait, everybody with one or more semi-functional brain cell. Gods, defending his masculinity was such a stupid pointless thing. Vanth was bruised all over from the bumpy trip. Hissing under his breath, he dragged himself into a seating position and squinted over at the two.

“I volunteer Jo as tribute,” He drawled, lifting both brows at her in challenge when Jo twisted to glare at him. Vanth dodged the handful of sand the girl flung at his face and flopped back down onto the soft dry ground. “Call me if you need me to shoot something, otherwise I’ll just quietly die here.”

He closed his eyes against the bright glare of the sun overhead and curled onto his side.

“Those two points?” Din’s soft voice washed over Vanth as he talked to Jo, “I see another one rigged near the mouth of the cave.”

“There’s probably more traps inside,” Jo replied, “we could try to make a plan to lure him out.”

He tuned them out and fell into a light doze under the warm sun. Well, until something prodded Vanth’s left hip. He reluctantly peeled one eye open and found the Mandalorian looming over him, blocking out the light.

“Get up. We need you to shoot something.” He shoved the long sniper rifle strapped on his back into Vanth’s lap.

“Don’t need yours, got my own,” Dusting sand out of his hair, Vanth rose to his feet and patted the gun at his side. He picked up the child holding onto his trouser leg, and staggered over to where Jo was crouched. Vanth addressed the Mandalorian over his shoulder, “It ain’t about size, darlin'. It’s about how you use it.”

“Said no one ever,” Din retorted, folding his arms over his chest.

He frowned at the man, “we still talkin' about guns, Mando?”

Din's hand twitched toward his blaster. A clear warning that Vanth was pushing his patience.

“Alright, fine.” Dragging the scarf over his lower face and settling into position, Vanth threw a wink at the wide-eyed child next to him, “tell your daddy to watch and learn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was excited for Episode 3, but kind of confused with the second one. I thought that egg-eating bit was supposed to lead to more, and it turned into a weird joke that didn't quite land with me. But so far, nothing has beat the first episode of the second season...
> 
> Come back, Corn Man...


End file.
